


Musical Heroes Part One: D.R.I.

by DDElliott



Series: Musical Heroes [1]
Category: Metallica, Rock Music RPF, Slayer (Band)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 07:20:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19246471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DDElliott/pseuds/DDElliott
Summary: A first hand account of growing up to meet your musical heroes and the music they play.





	Musical Heroes Part One: D.R.I.

                                 Musical Heroes Part One: D.R.I.

     Growing up in musically divided household raised many challenges. A father who disregarded the music of his teen years as juvenile and talentless chose instead to embrace the music of his parent’s generation instead. Music from the nineteen forties and classical music was more his forte and anything else was met with disdain. He commented once, when I asked him about early rock n roll from his adolescence by stating that “I listened to it on the radio sometimes but I never cared for it.” My mother on the other hand enjoyed the doo wop music from the late fifties and early sixties as well as a deep fondness for country music and Elvis. She was more open to different genres and collected cassettes of everyone from The Beach Boys to Simon & Garfunkle as well. Her collection was peppered with classic Oldies, female artists such as Helen Retty, Linda Ronstadt and The Captain & Tennille. What was absent from our home was anything recorded passed the mid-sixties. I wasn’t exposed to music beyond the cassettes mom owned and the few 45’s that were handed down to me along with a child’s record player. My vinyl records included Peter and the Wolf and various campfire songs that had been previously owned by one of my older cousins. Eventually my love and appreciation of older music was dwarfed in contrast by a cassette handed to me by my uncle Jim. Years earlier, one of my mother’s younger brothers, David Paul had spent hours listening to the radio while living with us when he was in seventh grade. One day he shared an album he had bought himself and that was the first time I ever heard the sounds of Ted Nugent. It made an impression on my young mind and blew me away. Another time before entering my teens, my cousin Patty took me for a ride to pick up a pizza not far from her house but didn’t have a car so she commandeered her older brothers Road Runner. As soon as we were in and she turned the key, the engine and radio both came to life! The combination of that rumbling motor and the music of Pink Floyd’s The Wall drove the stake of rock even deeper into my heart. Fast forward to the late eighties and my high school years. While piling into two cars headed for a Canadian vacation, my uncle Jim handed me a cassette and told me to give it a listen while we drove north. At that point in my life I was never without my portable cassette player and headphones but was still tethered to my mom’s music. I looked over the front cover for a long time in amazement at the hazy and distorted band photo and the lettering above it that read Deep Purple Machine Head. For the next two days I listened to every song on both sides over and over so many times that I quickly learned the words to each one. The raw power and driving beat of those songs woke something in me that day, something that hasn’t been diminished by the passage of time. It was in my junior year of high school that I made the decision to further my musical education and broaden my horizons. I went to Hills Department store and found what I was searching for. That was the day I bought my first Led Zeppelin cassette. That album was the first of many that I came to love and admire for the rest of my life. When I was a little kid growing up in a small town the only way to access the rest of the world was either in books, which I hadn’t learned to enjoy yet or on television. On Sunday mornings I often played sick in order to stay home and watch old movies. The most common Sunday morning movies where usually one of the many flicks from Abbott & Costello who I loved and various monster movies from Universal Pictures with a smattering of odd stuff blended in. Old Danny Kaye and Bing Crosby, Bob Hope and occasionally a beach blanket movie. Beach blanket films were strange but funny pictures made in the early to mid-sixties about a group of good looking teenagers spending their summer on the California coast in search of sex, surfing and goofy good times. The gang of kids always ended up at a bar where musical acts were featured and played songs from records being produced in connection with the film. One of the main acts was a group called Dick Dale & the Deltones. They were an actual band from southern California and the kings of the surf music. Dick Dale, the leader and founder, was nicknamed the King of the Surf Guitar for the rest of his life, for which he was very proud. I used to daydream about what it might have been like to be of those kids, surfing and dancing and hangin out at the beach. It seemed like the perfect life. But one thing I never imagined was that one day I would meet and talk with Dick Dale in person and tell him what his music had meant to a lonely little kid in Pennsylvania. The world outside our town seemed unbelievable and so far away that I never thought of anyone on TV or movies and radio as real. The first time I met someone who you might consider a celebrity was at an oldies concert held at the Butler Farm Show Grounds. The Farm Show was the equivalent to a fair but included livestock and tractors as well as games and traditional rides. It also hosted live music once a year and I saw the Young Rascals play. I had an odd chance meeting with them just before the show when I went into a building close by to get a chair for my mom and found myself standing among them in what was actually their dressing room. They were friendly and offered me one of their chairs and sent me back to my mom. It was really cool to meet a real live band that I had heard on the radio and on cassette. At one point in the show while singing Good Lovin, Felix Cavaliere nodded to me and smiled. I waved back a happy boy. ‘Good lovin’, ‘Groovin’, ‘It’s a Beautiful Morning’ and ‘A Girl Like You’ became favorites that day.

      In my later teen years while I began exploring all that rock had to offer, I decided to progress slowly and systematically by starting with Led Zeppelin I, then after listening to the album over and over I bought Led Zeppelin II. That album was even better than the first and so I continued on to the third album and onward until I had exhausted the entire Zeppelin catalogue. Needless to say Zeppelin fueled my growing love of hard music and in the years that followed I sampled as much diverse music as I could get my hands on. A music store opened in town and offered records and cassettes as well as a new form of music called a CD. I was exposed to bands and types of music genres that had been inaccessible previously. Led Zeppelin led me to Pink Floyd and The Who. Then I ventured out into the world of Faith No More, Stereo Mc’s, the Soupdragons and beyond. At that point in time I was starting to attend parties by my newly made friends Jason and Daryl who introduced me to the Digital Underground, Erasure, New Order, The Cure and my personal favorites Depeche Mode. In my life I’ve found that bands change and adapt over time and their music does as well. And while change is good, the bands you fall in love with can disappoint you with newer material that doesn’t meet your tastes as they continue to grow and explore. They sometimes take a musical journey that you aren’t ready for and you lose interest and move on to others groups. Depeche Mode is one of the few bands that have consistently moved forward without losing their direction. They are one of the only bands that I love each and every one of their albums. They haven’t ever disappointed me.

       One group that caught my attention with nothing more than a strange symbol on a flag of solid black was called D.R.I. I found out later what the letters meant when I asked about the cool banner hanging in the music shop. The band was called Dirty Rotten Imbeciles and the music they made fit me perfectly. The rough and grinding guitar sounds mixed with the driving drum beat and outrageous vocals touched the rebellious side of my personality that began to emerge. That band and their album ‘Four of a Kind’ had only a cartoonish drawing on the cover of the four members. The music from that cassette poured out of my stereo at home as well as my car stereo as much as possible and I couldn’t get enough of it.

      At the age of nineteen, if you had told me that one day I would not only see D.R.I. live but that I would hang out with the band back stage and sing onstage with them, I would have told you that you were nuts! But to my amazement, almost 22 years later, I met, hung out with and sung onstage with them on two separate occasions! I sat at my desk at work one evening and for some reason it occurred to me to check the Internet and see if there was any information about the band. I found the bands official web-site and saw that they would be traveling on tour shortly in the future. I noticed that they were offering the opportunity for some fans to be roadies while they were on the road so I took a chance and e-mailed them. I never really expected to hear back from them but was delighted when I received their e-mail offering me the chance to help them out when they arrived in Pittsburgh. I was so excited that I could barely wait the two weeks before they showed up on the South Side.

     Spike Cassidy, lead guitar player and founding member sent me his cell phone number and we stayed in touch. On the day of the concert I showed up to Club Diesel alone and found out my name was on the bands guest list. The promoter asked when the band would show and I spent the next hour on the phone and texting Spike until they pulled up next to the clubs side doors. Spike was the first person to pile out of the van and introduced himself. He was as friendly and enthusiastic to be there as I was. Next to reach out and shake my hand was Harold Oimoen, bass player for the band. He was a lanky, tall guy with wild curly hair and a giant smile. Harold and I got along immediately! Then there was Rob the drummer, quiet and reserved and finally Kurt Brecht the lead singer! Harold opened up the vans back door and asked me for help carrying their gear inside while I looked inside at the guitar cases stacked on the vans floor. I grabbed two black road cases and went in through the side door and down the steps to the dressing room below the clubs dance floor. As I walked down the stairs I saw the signatures of all the bands that had come through there over the years hand written on the white wall. I decided to add my own for fun and signed my name with the bands. Once inside the dressing room I sat the guitar cases on the floor where Spike pointed out that he wanted them, next to a giant plastic ice bucket full of bottles of beer. He offered me a beer as he opened the road cases and pulled out his black guitar covered all over in Skank-man stickers!

     Now you’re definitely asking yourself, “What’s a skank-man”? Well, if you remember me saying that what caught my eye first about the band was the symbol on a black banner that hung in the record store 20 years earlier, this is it. When the band formed in Spikes bedroom in Huston Texas in nineteen eighty two, they needed a symbol to represent them and chose to use an idea that Kurt had thought up and drawn for his high school art class project. It’s basically a circle with a stick figure moshing. Moshing is dancing for those who don’t know. Moshing was born from slam-dancing incorporated among the punk scene in the mid-seventies. So the band had used the moshing stick man on their album covers, t-shirts and stickers since the bands inception and here I was looking at Spike standing there in front of me all alone holding his signature axe. I had been carrying that guitar and didn’t even know it! I’d seen him play it on MTV in videos and in pictures of the band on-line but now I had carried it in and watched him tune up. That was one of my first sur-real moments that night! Next, came Rob the drummer who said he was starving and asked where he could get a good Gyro. He pronounced it Gee-row, which I had never heard before and was surprised to find out that I’d been saying it wrong my entire life. He and I went up Carson Street and found a pizza shop advertising gyro’s and had dinner together. After the meal we went back to find the guys warming up for the show. One of the cool features of such an experienced band was the fact that they traveled extremely light. When I asked about their gear Harold explained that in order to make the most of touring with as little over-head as possible, they carried only the essentials, Spikes two guitars and customized amp, Harold’s bass and Rob’s custom symbols! That’s it! He said that when they showed up to a gig they simply borrowed what they needed from the opening act. Rob borrowed the openers drum kit and just swapped out his special symbols for the set. So Spike and Harold borrowed the other bands amps and speaker cabs and Kurt used whatever microphone was there and that was it! Harold said “travel cheaply and save all the money!” I leaned something new that night. With no roadies to pay and no gear to lug around they saved every penny. That was why they had managed to survive as a band making a living for so long. Finally after the opening act finished playing I followed the band up the stairs to the stage. Spike had his two favorite guitars, Harold his bass, Rob was already set up at the drum kit, Kurt had a microphone and I was carrying the giant tub of ice and beer! We all walked on-stage together and when I looked out into my first rock show audience from that angle I was in heaven. I set the beer down on the side of the stage and opened and handed fresh bottles to the guys as they played. I was standing on stage with them the whole time, watching them play the music I had loved for so many years. They’d look at me while they played and smile and make faces while I laughed and head banged to every song. Harold’s chord came lose in the middle of a song when Spike yelled to me to slap a piece of duct tape over the plugin and jam the chord through the tape and it worked. Just a little road magic picked up along the years of playin hard and fast. Harold yelled some funny stuff to me during the songs, he is a real comedian. Meanwhile the band jammed on through the night. During one song, one of the craziest things I’ve ever seen happened right in front of me. A fan rushed on-stage and grabbed the hat off of Kurt’s head while he sang. Kurt has always been known to wear a ball cap everywhere he goes and even on stage even though he has a full, thick head of hair. The fan must have thought he’d get away with a trophy that night during the show but hadn’t counted on Kurt jumping off stage, following his several feet and then picking up an empty beer bottle from a table next to him and throwing it like a baseball across the large room, hitting the guy in the back of the head and dropping him like a sack! Without a word Kurt walked over, took back his hat and then spit on the guy and walked back to the stage! All the while, the band continued playing and when Kurt jumped back on stage, I handed him a mic and he started singing without missing a beat!! It was nuts! After the show Kurt told me that that kind of thing happens all the time and that he’s gotten really good with his aim over the years and hadn’t lost any hats. The band played, the crowd cheered and sang along while some brave souls stage-dived and bouncers tossed them around. Kurt needed a drink and while the band played for a minute or two, he looked at me and asked me for a beer. Unfortunately the bottle opener I had been using broke and I didn’t have a spare. Harold saved the day and taught me the trick of opening a beer bottle with a car key. That trick served me well the rest of the night and since.

      Now, a little background on the band… As mentioned before the band was formed in Houston in the early eighties by Kurt, Spike, Spikes brother and another friend from school. Eventually they moved to the metal scene that was growing in San Francisco and joined other fledgling bands just starting out. The young bands quickly became friends and spent all of their time, partying, practicing and playing together. Among the tight knit group of young kids were unknown bands like Metallica, Anthrax, Exodus and four kids destined to make an impact, Slayer. While these bands formed, grew and played, another young kid was hanging out and taking pictures. That kid was Harold Oimoen. Harold had grown up in San Francisco and was lifelong childhood friends with the new bassist and the undeniable heart and soul of the newly formed Metallica, Cliff Burton. Cliff was the genius responsible for the soul in all of Metallicas albums up until his untimely death at age 24 in Sweden. With Cliff, the true soul of Metallica died that day. The band carried on but was never the same and real fans agree that real Metallica died with Cliff. Harold attended his best friend’s funeral and partied the way he and Cliff had since becoming buddies years earlier. Harold was eventually asked to join D.R.I. as their bass player and carried his bass and camera with him throughout his career. He later published a book of his recollections and photos on Amazon to wide acclaim. He was a real character and funny guy. He and I went to McDonald’s with Rob and ate fish sandwiches while he told me stories of he and Slayer’s Dave Lombardo, playing practical jokes on other members of the bands while out on tour. Lombardo is most definitely the best drummer that metal has ever had as well as one serious prankster. Harold told me that Dave’s favorite joke was to leave a box at the front desk of the swanky, expensive hotels that Slayer stayed at while touring, for one of the band members accompanying Slayer on the road. He would tell the desk clerk to give it to the man when he stopped to pick up his messages and mail, then leave. The poor guy would stop by the desk and be handed this sealed box that he didn’t know anything about. When he anxiously opened it up there in front of the hotel staff and other guests, he would be outrageously embarrassed when he pulled out a pile of raunchy, gay porn mags! Dave loved embarrassing people! While Harold and I ate he told me confidentially that he hated Kurt the lead singer! He said that Kurt loved the admiration and success of a rock-star but didn’t want to participate in the hard work it took to be in the band. Of course that was Harold’s take or opinion as a band mate on the road for several years. I on the other hand spent six or seven hours alone with Kurt, hanging out and talking and my impression of him was vastly different. He was incredibly humble and hard working. He told me that what I do working a real job, is much harder than being in a band. He said that he spent half of his time on stage or in the studio and the other part of his life painting houses. In a gesture that still shocks me till this day, when it was time for Kurt to get up and sing, he handed me a wad of bills the size of a grapefruit (all of the bands cash from the concert and merch sales) to hold till after the show!! I have no idea how much money was in that roll but it wasn’t a bunch of ones and fives, of that I’m sure. The faith in me that he showed that night still boggles my mind. I got to know him pretty well that day and will never forget it. Spike was extremely nice and friendly also. He took time to show me how to string a guitar and tune it on stage while the bass player and drummer kept the crowd entertained and Kurt told stories. All in all it was a fantastic night as the guys played and I sang with Kurt on ‘Behind the wheel’, Acid Rain, and ‘Manifest Destiny’. Standing up there with those guys on stage and back stage that day was amazing. After the show Harold pulled me aside and asked if they had sounded ok? He said that he was always critical of their performances and wanted another’s opinion. I told him it was one of the highlights of my life and I thought they played and sounded fantastic, and that was no lie. I explained to him that for him it may just be one more show in a long string of shows in his career but to me and the others out there in the audience that night, it was a memory we’ll never forget. That seemed to help him put it all in perspective again and he thanked me for it. I helped Spike and Harold gather their stuff and unplug their gear and then went back down to the dressing room with Kurt who was pretty amped up still. We went in and he sat down and pulled a small black leather bag from his belongings and unzips it. He pulled out a small glass pipe and some other stuff and starts smoking it. He looks up at me and offers me a hit but I say no thanks. He then takes a few hits and tells me that “I need it to calm me down after a show, my nerves are shot and I can’t settle down”. I left him to his vice and joined the others outside in the cool night air. At mid-night on the South Side of Pittsburgh’s Carson Street on a Saturday night the streets are filled with partiers and drunk girls having fun. Me and the guys laughed and joked around on the street until Kurt found us and we all struck poses and took pictures of ourselves and had somebody take photos of all of us together. We had a great time and when no one was paying attention Harold snuck across the street and tossed something into a big metal dumpster parked on the curb and then high tailed it back to us and stood whistling with his hands in his pockets like nothing was going on, when all of a sudden, as I asked him what he was doing, BOOM! An explosion rocked the block and sent people scattering in every direction in fear from a terrorist attack! Harold had been carrying quarter sticks of dynamite in his jean jacket and set one off in the dumpster! We stood inconspicuously on the sidewalk as people screamed and ran until the cops got there and started asking questions. That’s when we all played dumb and said our goodbyes. I drove home that night thinking about my adventure when I received a text from Spike. He wished me well and said that he and the guys enjoyed meeting me and hanging out and that he’d stay in touch. Over the next few years we texted one another from time to time and met up once again at one of their concerts a couple years later. Again we hung out and laughed and I listened to Harold tell me stories. Kurt drank beer while I downed Pepsi. They were a good bunch of guys and that set me on my mission for several years to meet as many of my musical heroes as possible.


End file.
